Olivia

by Lori L. Otto

  “What about you, Jon?” she asks.

  “I’m well,” he answers.

  “How’s your mom?” My aunt directs her question to me.

  I shrug my shoulders. I can only hope she’ll be okay, but I’ve never seen her so sad.

  “Yeah. Jacks is pretty broken up over it, too. He considered her a good friend and confidant. Are you sure you’re okay?”

  I nod quickly.

  “Jacks says you’ve been staying busy.”

  “There’s a lot to do. We’ve been running the Holland Hotel this week.”

  “I’m sure,” she concedes, smiling. “Make sure you take some time for yourself.”

  “Oh, I will. When they leave, I will,” I respond. “Where are Maddie and Jackie?”

  “Everyone is out back.”

  “Where are the sodas?”

  “Just ask one of the waitstaff.” I furrow my brows at her, heading to the garage where Granna always had a second refrigerator stocked full of drinks. Jon follows me, taking out a bottle of water and drinking half of it in one long sip.

  I take advantage of the privacy, setting my drink and his on a workbench and reaching up to kiss him. He backs me into the fridge, putting his hands on my hips as my fingers massage his scalp and mess up his hair.

  “Olivia,” he says, once again being the first to pull away. “This isn’t good. What if someone comes out here?”

  “No one’s going to–” A woman–one of the helpers that had been hired to assist today–takes three steps into the garage before she notices us.

  “I’m sorry, Miss Holland.” She begins to go back inside, but Jon steps away from me, motioning for her to continue her work.

  “We were going back into the house,” he tells her as he takes his water and hands me my soda. “Come on, Liv.” He grabs my hand and pulls me with him. I make sure to drag my feet, letting him know that I don’t want to join the crowd that’s gathered to mourn Granna. I look around, seeing a few older women standing around a china cabinet and wiping tears from their eyes. I turn away, avoiding the sadness at all cost. She’s not gone. She’s in every face around me.

  But she is. On the opposite wall is the portrait of Nate I’d painted for her, a museum lamp providing a warm glow that brings out subtle nuances of the paint strokes. Next to it is a blank space, highlighted by a matching lamp. That was where Granna’s portrait should be hanging. She really is gone.

  I swallow hard, forcing my eyes to find something unfamiliar. “This house has a ton of rooms–” I tug gently, pulling Jon closer, needing the distraction.

  “No,” he says, halting us both and looking down into my eyes. “We are here to celebrate Donna’s life.”

  “We have to find a way to be alone again–soon,” I plead with him. His eyes are sympathetic, and he brushes his lips against my forehead.

  “We can talk about it later at your house. Let’s go find your cousins.” He follows my lead toward the back patio door.

  “Funny, at my house,” I say, just comprehending what he’s said. “What, with my grandparents swarming the place? I don’t think so.”

  “I feel weird discussing this here, Liv,” he says, his expression stern and serious.

  “Okay,” I say simply, opening the door for him. He pushes against the wood, motioning for me to go first. As I walk in front of him, his hand deliberately brushes against my skirt again. I turn around and grin at him, seeing the same playful expression on his face.

  My brother’s high-pitched squeal stands out among the others, and I immediately see him playing a game of tag with Steven’s boys. Jackie waves me over to her, but her brother, Andrew, stops us before we get there.

  He looks squarely into Jon’s eyes. “Livvy says nothing happened in Greece.” I slap my cousin’s shoulder, pissed that he would even bring it up to my boyfriend. Before he answers, I watch his reaction, noticing how he doesn’t look away or blink.

  “Livvy tells the truth.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “Matty was there the whole time!” I explain frustratedly.

  “Exactly. You were with Matty.”

  “You’re barking up the wrong tree, buddy,” Jon says as he side-steps him. My hand still in his, I follow closely behind. “Nothing happened,” he says louder, making sure Andrew hears him.

  “I don’t believe it, either,” Clara says, glancing up at me and away from the cell phone she’d been looking at with Jackie.

  “Shut up,” I tell her, rolling my eyes but feeling the blush spread across my cheeks. It’s the same reaction I had the first time I tried to answer her question.

  “If it hasn’t happened yet,” Andrew says, “it’s sure to happen at the loft. I can’t believe she left you that in her will.”

  “I don’t get the loft until I’m eighteen,” I explain. My parents were less than thrilled about this, even though Granna had hinted at it. My mother was unwavering that she didn’t want me to have such an extravagant gift, and although the reality of her giving it to me was inevitable, no one anticipated that ownership would change so soon. I’d wanted the loft since I first saw it, but not this way. I’d much rather have Granna here instead.

  I clear my throat before I have a chance to dwell on the sadness that creeps up again. “What were you doing?”

  “I was showing her the pictures we took from the London Eye,” Jackie explains.

  “I wanted to go so badly,” Clara says. “Thanks, Donna,” she adds sarcastically, looking up to the sky.

  “Yeah, she knew you were on the prowl for misadventure with British guys and chose the most drastic way to stop you,” Andrew adds.

  We all laugh uncomfortably–just for a second–not knowing what’s appropriate to joke about and what’s not.

  “Is that your phone?” Jon asks. I look into my purse and pull out my cell phone. He must have superior hearing capabilities. It wouldn’t surprise me. He’s seemingly superior at everything else.

  “Hey, Dad.”

  “Liv, your Mom and I are going to head home. Our parents are coming with us. Why don’t you and Trey head back to the city? We’d really just like to spend the day with you kids.”

  “What about Jon?”

  “You can go ahead and drop him off at his apartment.”

  “But we were going to spend the afternoon together.”

  “Your mom needs you,” he says quietly. “Do it for her?”

  “Okay,” I tell him, disappointed, hanging up the phone. It’s not just that I want to be with my boyfriend, either. I don’t want to talk about Granna–and I know that’s what Mom needs. “Mom and Dad aren’t coming, and they want me and Trey to come home.”

  “And I’m not invited,” Jon says, having heard my end of the conversation with my father. “Yeah, I definitely think something’s up with Jack.”

  “It’s not that,” I try to convince him. “Dad just wants it to be family-only. It’s not an exclusion of you specifically.”

  I tell my cousins goodbye while Jon rescues Trey from the game of chase. On the drive home, I wonder if there will be any possible way for me to get out of the house again today.

  When I get home and see my mother, still crying, I finally accept that there isn’t.

  CHAPTER 2

  The next morning, I help Trey arrange sliced bananas and blueberries into a smiley face on his pancake while Mom and all of my grandparents eat in the formal dining room. Dad goes outside to get the paper, as he routinely does every morning. He’s spent so much of his life on computers, it’s funny to me that he still likes the feel of a newspaper.

  “Where’s the whipped cream?” my brother asks me.

  “You don’t need whipped cream for this! Trust me,” I explain, following my mom’s orders to try to steer Trey away from unhealthy sweets.

  “Chocolate milk?”

  “We’re out,” I lie as I open the refrigerator and quickly shove the brown carton to the back before he can see. “But we have regular. Want some?”

  �
��Okay.” I pour a glass for him and shoo him off into the dining room with everyone else. After making sure he’s seated at the table, I get the chocolate milk back out and pour a little in a mug for myself. Mom’s always telling me I look too skinny, anyway. I drink it quickly, just in case Trey comes back into the room.

  “Look who I ran into,” Dad says, walking into the kitchen just ahead of Jon. He doesn’t sound angry, but he doesn’t sound happy either. Jon looks apprehensive, so I approach him quickly and welcome him with a big hug.

  “You didn’t tell him you’d invited me?”

  “I didn’t think I had to. It’s Saturday. You always come on Saturdays.”

  “Not this early.” He sighs, gritting his teeth.

  “It’s fine. Want some fruit?”

  “Sure.” I find two bowls and start filling them with pineapples, cantaloupe, grapes and berries. After I hand him one, I lead him into the room with my parents, grandparents and brother.

  “This must be Jon,” Grandma Holland says. She stands up, arms outstretched, before he has a chance to put his food down. I take it from him quickly, being all too familiar with her tight squeezes. It doesn’t matter that Jon’s a stranger to her.

  “Hello, Mrs. Holland. It’s nice to finally meet you,” he says, his voice strained from the loss of breath. When she lets him go, he walks around to her husband and to Mom’s parents and step-parents, introducing himself.

  “So you’re the reason Livvy’s so distracted lately?” Grandpa Holland says.

  Jon looks surprised by the question and shakes his head slowly. “I don’t know, Liv, have I been a distraction?”

  “Nope,” I say pertly, sitting down and patting the chair next to me, signaling for him to do the same. I’d never admit that he was, anyway, because it sounds like something my father would accuse him of.

  Dad sifts through the paper, handing my mom a section before removing the business pages and folding them up to fit in the space beside his plate.

  “Jacks?” Mom says, looking at the page in front of her.

  “Did I give you the wrong one?” he asks her, taking it back from her unsteady hand.

  “No, but–” She stops herself, and the room is silent as we watch my dad’s face contort into a look of confusion.

  “What is it?” Grandma Hennigan asks. Jon and I glance at one another.

  “If you’ll excuse me,” Dad says, taking the newspaper with him as he stands to leave the room. Instead of heading straight to the kitchen, though, he rounds the table, walking behind us all. His arm reaches between Jon and me, and he sets the offending article in front of us.

  “Not a distraction, huh?” he mumbles. It only takes me a split second to see the pictures, and to grab the sheet into my lap before everyone else sees. Dad continues to the door. “It was a funeral,” he states, his voice louder. I duck my head into my lap, not only to hide my rosy cheeks, but also to look at the pictures in more detail.

  Obviously, I’d checked the tabloid sites last night and assumed we had hidden our activities well, but I guess the photographers were not far enough away to keep them from getting good pictures of me kissing Jon. If they were able to see my boyfriend’s face at any point, they didn’t publish those pictures.

  “Jacks,” my mother tries to stop him, looking around the table, embarrassed.

  Jon’s fingers pry mine away from the paper so he can see what I’m staring at. He’s silent as he takes it in, but I notice his hand is shaking.

  “Dad,” I call after him, standing up abruptly and heading to his office, where I assume he’s gone. I find him there, seated in his leather chair and looking directly at me, like he’s waiting for me.

  “Close the door.” He crosses his arms in front of his chest. I do as he asks and then sit in one of the two chairs opposite him.

  “Dad–”

  “Give me a second, Liv. I’m trying to calm down. I don’t want the entire family hearing what I have to say to you.”

  “I’m sorry,” I tell him softly. “I know you’re upset with me.”

  “Disappointed,” he corrects me. “I’m disappointed in you. I’m upset with that boy out there. How dare he–” He stops himself, realizing the volume of his angered voice.

  “Listen to me, Dad.” I decide to stand up, tucking my fingers beneath the lip of his desk and gripping tightly, bracing myself. “It’s not his fault.”

  “A year ago, my daughter would never be caught in a moment like that. What’s changed?” he asks. “Oh, yes. That boy has walked in and made you forget everything that’s important about family and propriety and... and... and manners!”

  “You’re overreacting.”

  “Do not tell me I’m overreacting, Olivia Sophia.”

  “Daddy, what’s changed is that I’ve turned sixteen and I started dating someone that I really care about. I’ll have you know that Jon was very uncomfortable when I kissed him like that, but we hadn’t seen each other in days, and I wanted him to know I missed him. I haven’t forgotten about family–damn it, Dad–”

  “Olivia?!”

  “Sorry,” I say, “I’m just frustrated, but I’m sorry. Daddy, I’ve spent the last five days cooped up with family, so don’t tell me I’ve forgotten about them. I haven’t.”

  “So just the propriety and manners.”

  “You’ve never gotten carried away by your emotions?”

  “I do my best to keep my private matters in private locations.”

  “I didn’t know we were being photographed, Dad.”

  “And I didn’t know I’d need to remind you that even Donna’s private burial would be a huge public spectacle, seeing as how she was revered in this city. Common sense, Liv. Have some, okay?”

  “Okay, I’m sorry,” I say, moderately offended at his suggestion. My temper begins to flare. “It was stupid of me. Next time I kiss Jon like that, I’ll make sure we’re somewhere private.”

  He raises his eyebrows at me. “Oh, I can make sure there won’t be a next time,” he threatens. “You’re grounded.”

  “No, Dad,” I argue. “You can’t ground me for kissing him. Sorry, but you know that’s been happening, and you know it will continue to happen. In the end, that’s all that happened. I didn’t invite this publicity. I’ll be more aware of my surroundings from now on. That has to be good enough.”

  I can tell he knows I’m right as he strokes the stubble on his chin. He shakes his head at me.

  “What?” I ask.

  “Get him in here.”

  When I open the door, Mom and Jon are standing right outside. My mother steps into the room, ushering my boyfriend inside.

  “Is there no privacy anymore?” Dad yells loudly. Mom tries to shush him, closing the door behind her as she leaves. “You’re in this now,” my father tells Jon, pointing his finger accusingly. “Now you’ll see first-hand what my family gets to deal with every day. Gone are your days of anonymity. Now the whole city knows you. Welcome to our world.”

  “Actually,” Jon begins, “they don’t know who I am.” He places the paper back down in front of Dad, then points to a caption beneath one of the photos. “Livvy Holland, adopted daughter of Jack Holland, embracing an unknown suitor at the funeral of Donna Wilson-Schraeder,” he reads aloud.

  “Great, so it’s just my daughter who gets vilified.”

  “I don’t think it says anything negative about her,” Jon explains.

  “When will they just call me your daughter?” I mumble, too quiet to be heard. After thirteen years, I don’t know why it’s important to mention I’m not his biological child.

  “A picture is worth a thousand words,” Dad says, picking up the paper, folding it in half and dropping it to the floor with purpose. “Do you think these pictures portray a positive image?”

  Jon doesn’t answer, so Dad looks at me. “Do you?”

  “No, sir,” I say quietly.

  “I’m embarrassed for you,” he says.

  “It was just a kiss,” I remind h
im. He takes a few breaths as Jon and I stand motionless in front of him. He leans over and picks up the paper, unfolding it calmly and placing it in front of him.

  “Sit down.” We both do as he asks. I fold my hands in my lap, even though I see Jon’s fingers reaching for mine. Dad reads silently. When he looks back up at us, his face is ashen. “They think you’re engaged? They’re wondering if you’re... if you’re...”

  “What?” Jon and I ask together.

  “Pregnant,” he barely chokes out.

  Jon clears his throat and starts talking confidently. “It’s just sensationalist journalism. The notion is ludicrous because... I mean...”

  Dad and I both look at him.

  His conviction fades quickly. “You know.”

  I nod aggressively. “Of course we know!” I want to curl up in a ball and die.

  “Things are different between you two,” Dad says skeptically. I have to swallow hard and blink away tears, seeing the actual disappointment in my father’s eyes now. It’s one thing for him to say it, but I feel the emotion radiating from every pore in his body.

  “They’re not,” I deny. “I don’t know what you’re insinuating–”

  “Jack,” Jon interrupts, sensing my struggle. “We kissed. We got a little carried away after not seeing each other for a few days. That’s all it is. What couple in love doesn’t react in that way?”

  “I don’t want to hear this,” Dad says, impatiently standing up. “Fine. You kissed. Can you both consider your surroundings and situations? It was a funeral. Have some decency.”

  “Dad, I’ve apologized. I can’t take it back, so that will have to do.”

  “You haven’t.” He stares at Jon, waiting for a response.

  “Believe me, sir, I’m sorry, too. I take full responsibility for my actions. I was just happy to see her.” I don’t bother to tell him I told my father how it actually happened, how it wasn’t his fault. It wasn’t.

  “Do not let your grandparents see this,” Dad says as he walks past us, leaving us alone in his office. I hear my mother tell him they already know, which draws the obscenity from his lips that I knew he’d been wanting to say all the while we were talking.